Deep in the hollowed out carcass of a clone wars era capital ship, of which faction or class he didn't know or care. The knight of ren who called himself Balal would sit. Meditating in what was possibly once the bridge of the ship. Three days ago he rushed to plot a course to the rim. Instead narrowly missing a star damaging the drive and limping into the orbit of the planet size junkyard of Bracca. It was perhaps a blessing in disguise. The Echani and his apprentice would dump the useless droid he scrapped on Coruscant. While the repair/scrap droids fixed the drive, they also scrubbed the navicomputer.
Balal had been passsing the time immersed in the shadow. To center himself in the ren. He had recently stumbled. Playing the games of men and governments, the foolish little rules, the hiding. It irritated him, angered him. He used that to anger, fear, and suffering. Focused it, and used it to crush a near by console into a block of size of his fist.
@Jez Winters